


The Weight of Us

by lego_hearts



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:30:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lego_hearts/pseuds/lego_hearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't know how long it's going to take for Dean to get over killing Castiel. He doesn't even know how he did it yet. Dean barely says a word, let alone goes into details.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of Us

**Author's Note:**

> Written pre-season 7. So it's totally inaccurate and made up. I don't even care.

Sam gives Dean all the time alone that he needs. It's been a difficult few weeks and Dean won't talk about it, not yet. Which is understandable. He goes out in the Impala at all times of the day and night, usually for hours, usually until the next day. They stay put in the motel they'd taken up in and Sam feels oddly settled. It's a nice town, the locals are friendly, he has things to pass the time when he's not worrying about Dean. Okay, he's always worrying about Dean, but his brother always comes home and Sam can't just sit and rot. 

He doesn't know how long it's going to take for Dean to get over killing Castiel. He doesn't even know how he did it yet. Dean barely says a word, let alone goes into details. The last thing Sam remembers is seeing Dean launch himself recklessly at their new God moments before passing out slumped on the wall against which he had been thrown. And the next thing he's in a bed in this motel, Dean sitting silently beside him.

“It's over. He's gone. God is dead,” is all his brother says before standing up and walking out.

And Sam isn't stupid or blind. Dean has been as in love with Castiel as the angel was with him. And how long does it take to get over killing the person you love? It had taken Sam years to get over Jess dying and that hadn't been by his hand. Hell, it took years to get over Madison and they hadn't known each other long or had the same intensity as his brother and Cas had had. So he understands Dean needs space. Understands that he doesn't want to leave this town yet. 

Dean has just walked out again. It's half past eight in the evening and Sam prepares himself for a night by himself.

 

At points Dean considers this set up reckless. Not the situation, just the set up. In a panic he hasn't found anywhere better to put Castiel but the cheapest and most run down motel in the neighbouring town. He wishes it were nicer, but he's been and brought new sheets for the bed and little bits and pieces to make it comfortable. It's only appropriate because when Castiel writhes and screams and vomits there's no one around to complain. And he can't move Cas now. 

He comes armed with a feast, several types of sandwiches, fruit, lots of water. It's the healthiest he's ever shopped for food, but Cas needs the energy and the strength that fast food doesn't provide.

“Hey, Cas, I'm here,” Dean says, swallowing down the fear that is always there when he steps through the motel room door, terrified of what he's going to find. The first few times he was sure Cas was dead. Completely gone. But today he's laying out on top of the covers, his breathing heavy and laboured, his skin shining with sweat. At least it looks as though the burns are healing, he thinks, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning down to scoop Cas into a sitting position. He's a little delirious but he'll come into focus soon enough. “Hey, handsome. You're looking a lot better today.”

Castiel cracks open an eye, never as bright as they'd been when he was a celestial being, but still so deep and unfathomable in their depths, in the things they've seen and the things they know. He smiles, and Dean's heart soars every time.  
“You're charming,” he mumbles, his voice a rasp, throat sore from the beating it's taking. 

“Well,” Dean keeps Castiel propped against him with one arm, deftly opening a bottle of water with his free hand and bringing it up to the other's lips. “Here, it's water.”

Castiel drinks, taking tiny sips and Dean waits patiently for him to finish. 

“You are looking better, though. Did you- were there any more?”

Cas nods his head weakly once. “Yes. Several early this afternoon. I believe it's nearly over, Dean. I feel so- so drained.”

“It'll be okay,” Dean says. “I'm here. I'm gonna take care of you until you're better.”

Cas's expression clouds over slightly. “And then?” he asks. “What will you do then?”

“Then, I dunno. Maybe we'll find some place to settle down properly. Or maybe I'll get a camper we can attach to the back of the Impala so we don't have to keep crashing in m-”

“Dean, I'm serious. If you're just doing this-”

“Cas, I'm serious,” Dean cuts him off in return. “I told you when I got you here, Hell, I told you that night that I loved you. I love you. Don't make me keep saying that. I'm not just going to throw you out onto the streets.”

Cas is silent, leaning his weight fully against Dean's side, head on his shoulder. “I'm sorry,” he whispers eventually. 

“Don't, Cas. No more. Save your energy. You need it-”

As if on cue Cas tenses up and rolls onto his side away from Dean, the sweat breaking out over his body again. Dean takes up his own position behind Cas, one hand on his hip, the other pressed gently between his shoulder blades, rubbing gentle circles that mimic the way his mom had soothed him when he was sick as a kid. It works in this situation too. 

Cas groans. The real pain comes from the way his grace is ripping up, he told Dean. Each of the souls he vomits up is taking a piece of his grace with it, which is why he is the way he is. Human. Almost. Eventually completely. It sounds awful, it sounds unbearable and the way Cas screams and sobs sometimes breaks Dean's heart to the point he wonders if he should have encouraged this, if he really should have just tried to kill Cas when he'd been asked too. But he loves him too much, he selfishly coerced him into this with promises of caring for him, making it better, promises of forgiveness. Which is why he hates having to leave when he does. But Sam can't know, not yet. This is private and it's between them. It's Cas once more risking his existence for Dean.

Cas screams, the burns glow and open up again, but it isn't half as bad as the way they had when this started, when Cas's body was nothing but blistered and he'd cried solidly for hours. Dean holds him, careful of the wounds. So far they heal quickly with the grace Cas has left, but they'll need to heal like a human's soon enough. 

Smoky, light grey mist seeps out of Cas's lips and nose and he belches, forcing more of it out, another soul. It makes for the window that is always open, because Dean isn't always here for this, but when he is he does everything he possibly can. 

“It's ok, Cas. I'm here, I love you. I love you.”

Cas' body trembles as he belches again, heaves, lets another one go. He appreciates Dean being here with him, he really does, but at the same time he hates being seen like this. He's so weak he can barely lift his head to expel as much as he can. He loses three more before he slumps back into the bed and Dean's body simultaneously, tears streaming down his cheeks and blood running from his nose. 

Dean cleans him up, applies salve to the burns which aren't really as bad as he had feared, all the while humming softly and whispering his love to the wrecked man before him.

Cas refuses to meet his eyes. 

“How are you feeling?” Dean asks after a while, twitching around with the need to do something to help. Maybe a sandwich or more water-

“Ugly,” Castiel replies, which stops all thought in Dean's head. He frowns.

“What?”

“You asked me how I felt,” Cas says petulantly. “I feel ugly.”

While it's true Cas isn't at his best right now there's nothing about him that Dean would classify as ugly. He looks the same, just a bit beaten up, and Dean'll be the first to admit that isn't something that turns him off. 

“Cas, you-”

“Don't, Dean. You don't understand. I'm human and I'm scarred and a mess. I'm no longer an angel. I am weak and I won't get strong again. Not this time. My grace has all but gone, there is nothing beautiful about me.”

Dean can barely believe the words that are coming from Castiel's mouth. He knows, sure, it's a painful transition, but Cas has never appeared to hold the opinion that he finds humans ugly.

“It's not that, Dean,” Cas says when Dean points this out. “It's the feeling inside me. It's dark now.”

Dean moves over the bed and gently turns Cas so that the other man is on his back staring up at him with those ridiculous, soul searching eyes that strip Dean of everything and leave him naked. Which isn't such a bad idea.

He pulls off his jacket and his shirt, dropping them onto the floor and toes off his shoes and socks. Castiel watches with bemusement but doesn't question. Dean's tshirt comes off next and Castiel draws in a sharp breath at the sight of Dean's torso, all of that skin, exposed to him. He reaches up and presses his hand to the scar it made on Dean's arm. No matter how many times he's healed Dean's body this one will not fade. The same way the sigil on his chest will never go away. Goosebumps blossom out over Dean's body at the simple touch.

“It's not all bad, being human,” Dean says gently, leaning in with some hesitance, giving Cas time to pull away from the kiss he's about to bestow upon him. It isn't their first, but it holds something a lot more than any of the others had. 

There's a moment where they shift and somehow their bodies seem to know just where to go to. Dean is kneeling between Cas's thighs, wary of the roughness of his jeans against the soft skin. He holds himself up on his arms either side of Castiel's head and Cas leans up to find his lips, his other hand tracing lightly up and down Dean's ribs, setting off another wave of goosebumps that are honestly delightful. Dean shivers. 

Castiel's fingers change course and slip around to Dean's belly, tucking themselves into the top of his jeans and Dean's hips jerk instinctively. He feels Cas smile against his lips and lets out a soft chuckle. 

“Plenty of time for that later,” Dean says, lifting his head to look at the man beneath him, surprised at the frown that greets him in return.

“Is it the burns?” Cas asks in all seriousness. “I can't make them go away. I'm sorry.”

Dean realises then, suddenly, that this means something a whole lot more. It isn't just a promise of all the awesome sex to come, but Castiel needs to feel wanted, he needs to feel like this body is his home and it's beautiful with or without his grace inside. And he needs it now.

“No,” Dean replies. “You're perfect for me, Cas.” He sits up and takes Castiel's hand from his stomach, pressing it lower down over the heat of his half hard cock in his jeans. “You do that to me. Every damn time I'm near you.”

Castiel seems to accept that and when Dean undoes the button at the top of his jeans Cas takes the initiative and pulls the zipper down until Dean can wriggle out of them and discard them with the rest of his clothes. He turns back in time to see Cas's thumbs hesitantly hooked into the top of his underwear, looking at Dean as though he requires permission to take them off. 

“Please,” Dean's voice comes out as an embarrassing rasp. He's seen Cas naked nearly every day he's been here, every day for two weeks, but now he's going to see Cas and he's sure as Hell going to touch Cas. Immediately. As soon as the underwear is gone Dean's hands are on Cas's hips, smoothing over the skin, over his stomach, avoiding his cock altogether just to see Cas, weak as he is, writhe and arch off of the bed. Well, if that isn't fucking beautiful Dean doesn't know what is.

He pulls his own underwear off, fully hard now, and relishes in the little gasp of pleasure that escapes from Castiel's lips at the sight. 

“You do this to me,” Dean repeats himself, smiling and leaning down to kiss Cas again.

The former angel wraps completely around him, arms around Dean's neck, legs around his hips, pulling him down and pulling their bodies flush. They both groan simultaneously into each other's mouths as their cocks rub together and then grin. Castiel's fingers toy with the short hairs on the back of Dean's neck and Dean's run languidly up and down Castiel's sides, right down to his hips, down to the tops of his thighs. Their kisses peter out into soft pecks but their bodies rock slowly and of their own accord until Cas is once again writhing, the sensations brilliant and new.

“What else can I do to you, Dean?” he murmurs against Dean's mouth, and when Dean opens his eyes the look he's receiving is possibly the most erotic thing ever. Castiel's pupils are blown, his eyes half lidded so they're just dark, deep pools.

“I think you know the answer to that,” Dean grunts, because Cas's rocking hips are going to make him come if he carries on this way.

“How? How should I?” Cas persists, flicking his tongue out against the corner of Dean's mouth. “I need to.”

Dean swallows. “I don't think-”

“Don't think, Dean, you think too much,” Cas reprimands. “Just-please. Please want me.”

“Cas,” Dean's heart breaks all over again. “Cas, of course I want you.” Again it occurs to him that there's a whole lot of fear inside Cas that isn't going to be relinquished with the souls. If anything, it's getting worse. He's emotionally vulnerable and Dean understands the need Cas is expressing maybe more than Cas himself does.

The other man is trembling beneath him and Dean does his best to quiet him with kisses. And then he reaches for the salve he's been using on Castiel's wounds. Of course he doesn't have lubrication, he's hardly been planning this.

He coats his fingers before Cas realises what he's doing. Understanding blossoms over his cheeks with a blush. But he doesn't tell Dean to stop. On the contrary, he lowers his legs from around Dean's hips and spreads them. For someone so innocent and inexperienced that's the most filthy gesture Dean's ever seen. His cock throbs with appreciation and he can't waste any more time bringing his fingers down and pressing them against Castiel's entrance, one at a time. The expression on Cas' face isn't pained, it's just a little frown of concentration, and Dean has to admit having bits of your torn off on the inside is probably a lot more painful than this.

One finger breaches and he slides it all the way in, drawing a gasp from Cas who is clearly doing his best to be patient. Dean adds another finger, groaning at how tight Cas is, how well Cas is taking this if the look of pleasure on his face is any indication. 

He thrusts them slowly in and out, stretching, curling them until Cas screams again, though there is anything but pain in his expression. His fingers dig into Dean's shoulder blades and it's just exquisite. 

Three fingers and then Dean is losing control of himself, pumping them in and out with increased speed, every inward thrust pulling a moan from Cas who is pushing back each time. Their bodies rub together, slick with sweat and precome leaking from both of their cocks. He feels Cas shudder with each brush of his fingers against his prostate and Dean is gradually becoming jealous of his own damn fingers. But fuck does he like the way Cas keens so desperately when he pulls them away. 

More make-shift lube coats Dean's cock before he positions himself where his fingers have just been. He doesn't get the option of pushing in slowly because Cas thrusts his hips down and takes Dean's head inside him, into the impossibly tight heat of his body. They both moan again, together, the sound drawing out in harmony as Dean slides all the way in. He can feel Cas's muscles trembling around him and he's going to come embarrassingly fast. 

They haven't spoken in all of this time, but they don't need to really. They kiss and it's slow and tender, Cas's fingers running soothingly over the welts his nails left in Dean's shoulders moments before. Their hips move lazily together, Dean only sliding out an inch or so before pushing back in, but it's deep enough that the head of his cock rubs against Cas's prostate each time, and each and every time Cas jerks slightly and his muscles clench and relax in ripples around Dean.   
Their bodies are providing enough friction for Cas's cock, Dean feels it throbbing between their stomachs. Everything about Cas, everything about him is the perfect balance of beautiful and erotic and sexual and he doesn't even think the other man knows. 

“Dean, harder-” Cas barely says the words but Dean complies, increasing the power of his thrusts but not the speed and Castiel's whole body rocks beneath him as his prostate is even more thoroughly teased by Dean's cock. The headboard of the bed thumps into the wall and the moans Cas produces to accompany them are just filthy. He's no longer moving to meet Dean, too weak to help, but he's more than happy to lay back and have Dean take him. 

Appreciating the soundtrack of Castiel's pleasure, Dean avoids kissing him on the lips again but creeps his mouth along his jaw to his ear, down to his neck, licking up his throat. He kisses delicately around the perimeters of the burns and wounds and a sob sneaks into Cas' purrs and moans. Dean's mouth presses to Cas's ear, breathing his own moans against it and feeling with great smugness the way Cas's skin blooms into goosebumps for the first time. 

“You're beautiful, Cas,” he whispers, and there's no mistaking the sob from Cas this time. Dean's pretty sure he believes him now.

“Fuck me, Dean. Just-I need to-”

Dean could possibly have gone on all night like this, the slow, hard thrusts, but he is aching and Cas is so tense it's almost torture to not let him come. He lifts his head again, resting their foreheads together and gripping Cas's hips for leverage before he speeds up his thrusts, still hard and short and merciless but faster. Cas is panting, whimpering, trembling all over until the moment his muscles clamp down around Dean and his body jerks off of the bed, Dean's name tumbling from his lips over and over again as he comes between them.

Dean follows in seconds, his hips pumping shallow and erratic until he releases.

“Cas- Cas, Cas,” he chants until he is silenced by their lips being crushed together in a hot, needy kiss.

 

He sleeps spooned behind Castiel, their bodies melted together all the way down. Close to five in the morning he feels Castiel shudder, feels the tension that warns him of what is going to happen next and he holds on tighter as Cas vomits, two souls slipping out of the window. And then it's over.

Castiel looks so worn the next morning, his eyes bruised, his hair messy, the permanent brush of stubble on his jaw a little longer and darker. He looks as though he's been on a week long bender, but the way he lays, the way he breathes as he sleeps, he's so human. Even his eyelids flicker with whatever an angel dreams for the first time. He'll always be an angel to Dean, even if he's a man like the rest of them, balancing the weight of the world on his mortal shoulders like everyone else. He's stunning.

Briefly, Dean wakes him to dress him and help him out to the car, tucking him in with the blankets and covers he'd brought for the motel room. The drive back to Sam is long and the conversation that will follow will be tough, but he'll do it for Cas. The man he loves.


End file.
